


What Dreams May Come

by OschonsWanderer



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Heartbreak, Light Angst, Original Character(s), Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25484128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OschonsWanderer/pseuds/OschonsWanderer
Summary: Ghilina Lavellan has been learning to cope with a lot. Since disbanding the Inquisition and learning to live covertly, hidden from the spies of Fen'harel, her sense of purpose is fading. She finds encouragement from the most bizarre of places: the Fade.
Relationships: Dalish (Dragon Age: Inquisition)/Solas, Female Lavellan/Solas, Fen'Harel | Solas/Female Lavellan
Kudos: 11





	What Dreams May Come

**Author's Note:**

> I originally crafted this for Tumblr, but I thought I would share here as well, since I had only posted one story until now. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Waking each morning was no longer the pleasure it had been in Skyhold. There was always that moment when she felt whole again, refreshed by the visions of the night before. But as they gave way to daylight, that happiness evaporated with their memory like a summer rain from the dry earth. Leaving only a vague memory of feeling hope, wrapped within a sharp edge that made it difficult to reach. It had been strange to see that towering monolith, once a bustling citadel of trade, spies, and military, now stand cold and silent like a discarded old bone in the soil. Yet as Ghilina walked the winding mountain path away from Skyhold, the place she had strangely come to call home, the mountains closed like theater curtains at the end of a play. 

_No_ , she thought, her jaw set with determination, _this is not the end. This is only an intermission._

It had been many months since that day, and if losing an arm hadn't been an odd enough experience to live with, leaving Skyhold felt like losing the ground from underneath her feet. But the Dalish were nothing, if not adaptable, and Ghilina took pride in being especially so. She had her father and his teachings to thank for that; moving from place to place and never lingering for long took little effort. She was, after all, Dalish. It was the constant watching of her surroundings while avoiding the prying eyes around her that proved to require more. 

The days seemed to stretch far longer than they had before. The Inquisition was now a shadow of it's former glory, an echo, and operating what remained of it's forces with such necessary secrecy took more getting used to than she had first thought it would. 

Even now she lay upon a bed within a rented room for the evening, waiting for contact from one of Leliana's agents, staring up at the tattered wood ceiling from the comfort of a warm and plush feather bed. 

The countryside just West of Nevarra was lovely. Not somewhere she would choose to linger had she the choice, but it was lovely.

Somewhere beyond her open window, she heard crickets sing with joy as the aroma of the night wafted in on the cool evening breeze, bringing with it the promise if rain. A hush as a torrent of wind rushed through the gusty trees.

As much as Ghilina disliked being left with her own thoughts on nights such as this, there was also a sense of peace she enjoyed. Along with the hope for a better tomorrow. 

Her thoughts began to slow with the progression of the night like the flow of a lazy river. Each one danced as the ribbons from a kite string reaching toward the sky, inviting the dreams that would inevitably take her. 

Ghilina's dreams always took her to a happier future, the sort she secretly hoped for, yet tucked away into the darkest recesses of her heart. They were bittersweet wishes, for to wish for them earnestly would invite further heartbreak.

It began as it often did, with the colors of a thousand ribbons and streamers decorating the town square of Wycome. They billowed and swayed on the unseen breeze as people danced and laughed all around her in celebration. 

Ghilina looked down and found herself dressed in a simplistic white gown, her arms and shoulders exposed.

That was when she noticed that her left hand and the part of her arm that had been consumed by the anchor was no longer missing. It had returned as it had been before the mark, and beautiful bracelets of gold and gems decorated her wrist. Interwoven with her dark hair were the small flowers of Prophet's Laurel.

Standing before her, taking her hands gently in his, stood the man to whom her heart belonged. 

Solas, down-turned gray eyes staring so lovingly into her own, wore a red and gold vest with a tunic beneath. It's billowing sleeves tapered at the wrist by leather wrap cuffs, and a white wolf's pelt draped over one shoulder. 

"You look beautiful," Solas whispered admiringly. 

Ghilina looked down with a shy smile, "You as well."

Then came someone's familiarir dulcet tones, she immediately turned to look in their direction, "are you ready, da'len?"

Standing there, with a kind and knowing smile, was Keeper Istimaethoriel. She looked beautiful with her graying hair pleated and braided elegantly, pulled back into a neat bun to display her intricate Vallaslin. She was the only one in her entire clan left that she truly thought of as family. To see her again here, Ghilina felt happy tears bud at the corners of her eyes.

"She can't marry him!" A sudden voice protested angrily. 

Ghilina turned to the gathering crowd, her brows knotting as she stepped into Solas's arms, but she could not find the voice's source among them.

"That's the dread wolf! He tried to kill us all!"

Other faceless voices spoke up in agreement with the first.

Ghilina looked up into those gray eyes she loved so much, only for sadness and regret to look back. The same look Solas had given her that night in the glen.

"But she loves him!"

"He's a trickster god of many guises, he must have tricked her too!"

Chaos erupted all around them as more raucous voices rose with their own protests, the crowd beginning to surround them. All around her were angry and fearful faces. They were growing far too loud, and to block them out, Ghilina placed her hands flat over her ears. 

In her fear, she looked again to Solas for some form of guidance. Solas, his eyes never faltering from her, slowly backed away and disappeared into the crowd. 

The voices around her reached their crescendo, sounding more akin to a raging river. Then she realized the shooting and screaming she heard was no longer the voices, it was a torrential wind sweeping all around her like a vortex. It whipped her hair this way and that. Ghilina pressed her hands more firmly against her ears and tightly shut her eyes. 

When the wind died, and she dared open her eyes again, she was suddenly surrounded by the stone infrastructure of Kirkwall's Hightown. 

The sun glared down on her from its zenith in the vacant sky, an oppressive presence with it's unyielding summer heat. What trees she saw around her held drooping, flaccid leaves like wilted lettuce. Even the air was dry, not the usual humid warmth that came with living so close to the sea. The stones themselves looked bleached by the sun. The smell of baking pastries and fine perfumes wafted into the air, mingling with an occasional whiff of odor from the sewers far below.

In spite of it all, the city was bustling with activity. Citizens swarmed merchant stalls, as others shouted for the attention of potential customers. Nobles strutted like peacocks through the streets, as others hurried to their work. The blending of voices echoing off stone walls was a welcome white noise.

Suddenly a child's voice rose above the din, "Mummae!"

Ghilina whirled at the sound, catching the bobbing black head of a beaming young elven girl with gray eyes running toward her. Behind her strode the man she knew to be the girl's father: Solas. 

In his arms was a small elven toddler, the same features as his sister, watching the scene before him serenely.

Solas watched his daughter barrel into her mother for a hug, a gentle smile playing upon his lips As the corners of his eyes crinkled.

"Oh!" Ghilina exclaimed, looking down into the still-smiling face of this little girl who resembled her so strongly it made her heart ache.

"Mummae, I'm almost as tall as Uncle Varric!"

Ghilina looked into the face of the child before her and rested a hand on her cheek. She tried to smile, but the muscles of her chin would not obey. They trembled as she felt the sting of unshed tears.

Her knees buckled, catching her upon the stone. Her arms hastily wrapped around her small daughter and pulled her close, burying her face in the child's hair. The girl's hands lifted jerkily, tentatively returning the embrace. 

When she spoke, her small voice was laced with worry, "Mummae, what is wrong?"

The tears burst forth from her like a charging Druffalo before she could stop it, and suddenly the dam holding them back was shattered. The sounds that tore from her sounded like the wails of a distressed child, raw from the inside. 

Her daughter suddenly began to fade from her arms until she disappeared, her worried and sad expression never leaving her eyes. Ghilina blinked back tears and looked up at Solas, finding only that he too, along with their son, was fading from existence. Hurrying to her feet, she ran to them, reaching for them too late. 

All around her, the people faded away one by one until none remained. The scenery around her stilled, and the sky shifted, until everything was like looking through a filter of green. It was no longer the sweltering heat, nor the strange scents, of Kirkwall. This was the fade in it's more base form. She had been here too many times already in the flesh not to recognize it now, even as a dreamer. 

A shimmer of mist, diffuse, lingered before her as if the air itself was being warped and twisted. 

Finally, it congealed into form, "I did not mean to cause you pain."

Before her floated the translucent humanoid form of a spirit, it's voice silvery and soft-spoken, like an ethereal child speaking in a large room. 

Ghilina exhaled a breath she did not know she had been holding. 

"What manner of spirit are you?" She asked.

"I am what perches upon the soul to sing the wordless song, a driving motivation for change. I am the glimmer of light in a dark ocean of Despair. I am Hope."

She blinked, "Hope?"

"Yes, you have much in your heart. For the return of a lover, of a future together, of a better world for you both. Full of happiness, surrounded by those you love. But it is so very tangled amidst the thorns of your fears and worry, I cannot nurture it so long as you cleave to them so desperately." 

"How can I shed fear and worry when so many things could go wrong?" Ghilina demanded, "Even if I succeeded in changing the mind of Fen'harel, and returning Solas to my side, there is still so much that could go wrong."

"Then you would face it together. You are not alone, da'len. Even now."

"What do you mean by "even now"?" 

The spirit moved to the side to reveal a sad, lone white wolf across a vast distance. It's gray eyes looked into her's once, then quickly turned away. It faded as quickly as it had come.

Ghilina reached out instinctively, "Solas!"

"You will not catch him, not here." Hope warned.

"What?"

"Here he knows. Endless years spent learning how to bend and twist all things across the veil, his creation, into shapes; into what he wills it to be. You cannot find him here."

Ghilina frowned and looked down at her feet, thoughtful and sad. What the spirit said next startled her, "He sees your hopes as well as your fears. He sees them play out here in your dreams as he watches over the dreamer. He sees the place you hold for him there, and the thought of that future with you has already planted the smallest of seeds in his heart."

Ghilina's brows furrowed with confusion as she searched the spirit's featureless face, "he… wants that future?"

"As surely as he wants the other. He is torn and hurting. But hope for the future he would share with you is one I cannot reach. Only you have the ability to reach it. To nurture it."

"How?"

"You have touched his heart deeper than most ever have. He has tried to harden his heart to you, but cannot. You, only you, are the key to the Dread Wolf's heart. To reach him, though, you must first _wake up_."

Waking each morning was no longer the pleasure it had been in Skyhold. There was always that moment when she felt whole again, refreshed by the visions of the night before. But unlike before, her heart retained a lightness it hadn't before. Though her dreams faded with the rising of the sun, glistening off the morning dew from the night's rains, she felt motivation returning. A sense of hope she hadn't felt since the disbandment of the Inquisition. 

And as the knocks on her Inn room door signaled the arrival of the informant, Ghilina rose to answer. Purpose renewed, she was ready to continue fighting for a way to change her lover's heart.


End file.
